


Blood, Sweat & Tears

by quicksylver28



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Feels, Hurt/Comfort, LOTS OF ANGST for Quatre, Multi, non con, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:57:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of one shots i did to lead up to an epic story about Quatre but i stopped writing fiction before i got to the story. maybe i will dig up my old notes and get this story written</p><p>the stories were named</p><p>Maltshop<br/>Blood<br/>Sweat<br/>Tears<br/>Interlude</p><p>and the story was to be named Pandora's Clock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Untitled or Malt Shoppe  
(whichever suits you)  
By quicksylver

Standard Disclaimers Apply. Warnings: Angst, PWP, Shounen Ai

Unauthorised posting prohibited.   
He sat in the deserted malt shop, swilling the last of his root beer. Watching as the froth stuck to the sides of the tall glass as he swirled it. He broke his gaze away to look around. The small shop was deserted except for the elderly manager. Just as well, he thought, silence is golden. 

He shrugged and looked out at the twilight sky. So many things had happened, so many life-changing things. He was a gundam pilot now, defender of the colonies, protector of the weak. But did he really know what he was fighting for? They didn't think so... The other pilots that is. They knew the suffering, they lived it and now they fought because they had no choice. He had a choice. He did not have to fight. He could go home, a good home where he would rest... no where he could hide. That's what they would say ...and it would be true. 

He would be the 'poor little rich boy', running back home to daddy. But could he even go home? Did he still have that choice? His father's eyes would show what his face refused to. He was a proud and stubborn man and his disapproval would be a gap between them. Plus the fact that they had never been close to begin with. He was the heir...that was his only purpose, his only reason for carrying the name. He chuckled at the irony. Who knew that I would be such a loser with that name? 

He had tried to befriend them; offering them sanctuary, repairing their suits... but they had seen these as charity, bribes to by their loyalty. He didn't want more servants, more warriors to command. He wanted friends as any other boy his age would want friends. Even in these tumultuous times. But he had gotten their silence, their resentment for his wealth. His concern had come off as flaunting, miscommunication as disdain. 

Yet... in the midst of all this war he had fallen in love. He didn't plan to... it just happened. He always thought in his naively romantic way that love would come and bring him joy but again he was proved wrong. Love came in an intense pair of blue eyes. The first time was like a dream. His angel had vaulted out of the winged gundam to disarm the deathtrap set by Une only moments after mistakenly destroying the ESA leaders.

After that he couldn't stop thinking about him. The colour of his eyes, the feel of his hair, the slender lines of his neck, the curve of his butt in black spandex. He was perfection. But sadly, he was not his to love ...or lose. He could the effect that Duo was having on the Wing pilot. The scorn in Heero's eyes was fading gradually, being replaced by curiosity and something else. He wondered if it was affection, or even love.

Hn... Duo could make anyone love him.

His vitality and life was perfectly suited to Heero's strength and determination. Only Duo could make Heero smile or smirk or sneer... whatever it was. The point was that the other boy made it happen while he was totally ignored. He could understand Relena's devotion for Heero but also why she would never win him over. He knew that they were not suited for Heero, they could never give him what he needed, what only Duo could give. They wasn't strong enough or that. 

He shook his head and glanced out of the window again. It was dark now and the old man was getting ready to close. He took a few bills from his pocket and smoothed them out on the glossy red counter. He nodded to the man then left, pulling his jacket closer to him as he stepped into the brisk night air. He looked back at the door of the shop; the old man was turning the sign.

He was waiting for me to leave; he sighed and turned to walk away.

The moon was crescent and the sky clear and star filled as he journeyed to the nearby apartment they were using for a safe house. The click of the cheap lock echoed through the empty apartment. No one was there... except him and his shadow of course. He crossed the small living area and entered the bedroom. It was scarcely furnished and illuminated by the tawdry orange of the street lamp. He collapsed onto the worn quilt sheet fully clothed and curled up, toeing off his shoes. 

Life can't always be as you want it, he told himself, you just have to play the hand you're dealt. He yawned and buried half his face deeper into the pillow. But then, he remembered as he finally drifted off to sleep, there's always that little thing called hope.

 

 

Well... what can i say.  
You know who it is... i don't have to spell it out and if you're wondering why he isn't drinking tea well that's not all he drinks!  
I know the end is kinda lame but i'm open to suggestions.

07 08 2003- Added a sequel. It gets darker here on in so make sure to read the warnings before the fic


	2. Chapter 2

Part 1 of the Blood, Sweat and Tears trilogy

Although this fic can stand alone, it is the sequel to Malt Shoppe and the second installment in my unamed Quatre arc.

This is my ffirst time delving into quatre's character so deeply, this story changes as i write.  
Expect Ansgst, yaoi, voilence, non-con and depressed quatre.

I don't own these characters. don't post my story without permission. t  
he thimeline in this whole arc is somewhat skewed. Keep an open mind.

\--quicksylver--

written 050503

 

He couldn't sleep. The sheets were sticky and clung to his half-naked frame as he turned for the nth time in the past hour. This was happening more often, the insomnia. He would lay awake for hours on end, sleep claiming him only for minutes at a time. 

In the morning he would drag himself into the shower and let the cold water blast away the signs of his fatigue. Caffeine would get him through the rest of the day, the fighting, the running, the work of trying to co-ordinate with four reluctant pilots who didn't seem to want to work together? at least not with him.

Damn. He sighed, listening to the water drip from the faucet in the tiny bath. It was steady and grew louder as he focused his mind on the sound. Louder and louder it grew until each drop of water sounded like a heavy weight being pounded against concrete. He pressed his hands against his ears, unable to bear the deafening noise any longer. A cry tore from his throat as he twisted away, falling to the floor in the process.

He lay there breathing heavily, his head still ringing as tears squeezed out of his tightly closed lids. What the hell is wrong with me? He pulled himself back unto the small bed with a moan. He was glad that no one was there to witness his 'introversion'. That's what he called it when he freaked out like that. Maybe it had something to do with his Soul of Outer Space and the lack of sleep.

He wanted to confide in someone about this, it frightened him. But there was no one he could talk to. The other pilots certainly would not understand, their reaction frightened him even more. They would probably call him a freak and shun him. It certainly would not help their shaky relationship any better. 

There was Iria, his sister, but she was in space and he didn't want to take the risk of contacting her even if she was a doctor. He would have to deal with this himself. He settled back unto the sheets and willed himself to sleep. It didn't work, as usual.

Soon enough his eyes began to grow heavy, signaling the beginning of what he started calling his sleep snatches. It's gotten to the point where I'm naming this stuff... sheesh. He closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness.

A soft crash broke him out of it instantly and he was on his feet, gun out of the holster he kept near the bed. He crouched silently as the noise grew closer. Small thumps and the sound of shuffling echoed through the hallway. Easing the safety off and cocking the gun, he crouched behind the bed, ready to fire. His blood rushed, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he fought the fear that rose in his throat. It was always there? the fear. He forced it back down and steadied his hand. The door of the bedroom slung open and he stared at the interloper down the barrel of his gun.

Heero.

The wing pilot stood in the doorway, illuminated in flashes by neon. He could only stare as Heero moved toward him in slow and halting steps until they faced each other over the bed.

"Heero" he breathed as he saw the state of the wing pilot.

Blood ... There was blood all over him. Some of it came from several cuts and lacerations all over his lithe frame. Some of it was not his. Most of it was not his.

He had no time to follow that train of thought because Heero chose that moment to fall unto the bed like a sack of rocks. Oh shit, he thought as he turned the wing pilot unto his back. He had to help him. He quickly dug into his duffel bag, pulling out the small basic first aid kit he always kept with him. It never hurts to be prepared? I hope this will be enough though. He would be able to tell when all the blood had been cleaned off.

"Upsey daisy" he grunted, trying to heft Heero's body off the bed.

It proved difficult to maneuver Heero's deadweight so he ended up dragging the wing pilot into the small bathroom, the strap handle of the fist aid kit between his teeth. It was a tight fit as the bathroom was tiny but he managed to get Heero into the shower. He turned on the water, it was cold but what did one expect from such a cheap room. He sighed and shivered as he started running the water along Heero's body, wiping the dried and drying blood off of the unconscious pilot's skin.

As the blood drained away, he looked down at the wing pilot's clothes. Those will have to come off. He bit his lip. How many nights he fantasized about undressing Heero, stripping that tank top and spandex off of his muscular frame. He quickly shook that thought away. Pull yourself together? he's hurt and out cold. You can't think about this NOW. He needsyour help.

Carefully he tried to pull the soaked tank top off the prone boy; it would not come off. Finally he had to cut it away with a small bandage shears. Heero's chest was a map of scars, old and new. He quelled the urge to run his fingertips along the lines, some years old and some newly scabbing. 

It was time for the spandex. His breath came heavy as he gently and slowly cut the black material away from Heero's thighs. Carefully he maneuvered the shears up past Heero's hip and pelvis, pulling the black cloth way as he went.

The sight of Heero had always left him breathless but the sight of Heero completely naked under running water almost made his heart stop. He cock hardened immediately under his thin boxers, which was also soaking wet from the spray of the shower.

Oh God... he trembled, I can't do this. But the had too, Heero needed medical attention.  
He steeled himself and managed to get the wing pilot unto the bed and dried off. He then proceeded to tend to the wounds inflicted on the wing pilot. There was a knife wound in his thigh and some slashes on his neck, chest and forearms. 

Apparently he had been trying to protect his eyes and face from the slashing. There was bruising on his knuckles and knees and well as a bruised rib. All in all nothing too bad considering it was Heero Yuy.

He had used his spare coverlet to make bandages so he now stood shivering in his wet shorts, as Heero lay naked under his only sheeting. He quickly stripped and was putting on another pair when a sound came from behind him. 

Heero was moaning, his muscular frame trembling ever so slightly in the cold air. There was no more heat to turn up in the room and the extra cover was now in shreds so he could either let Heero freeze and catch pneumonia or something or he could help him keep warm.

He made up his mind with a nod and slid into bed beside the wing pilot. Carefully he wrapped an arm around Heero's chest, repeating to himself that this was only to help Heero and now was not the time to be thinking all the things he could do to Heero if the situation was different.

Hmph. He snorted. If the situation was different you would be getting your ass beaten to a pulp be a really really pissed off Heero. He probably would not have accepted your help in the first place, choosing to tend to himself rather than let you touch him.

That settled it. No hentai thoughts allowed at risk of being beaten to death. 

Ninmu Ryouakai.

He chuckled at the choice of words and settled himself closer to the wing pilot. It's going to be a long night. He was drifting into one of his sleep snatches when there was a pressure at his back. He froze as an arm snaked around him, pulling him closer to the body next to his. 

With trepidation his eyes traveled up the muscular chest, stopping briefly at the junction of the neck and at the mouth before finally looking into a pair of intense blue eyes. Oh fuck.

"H...H...Heero." He managed to squeak out and braced for the beating.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 2 of the Blood, Sweat and Tears trilogy

I don't own Gundam Wing. Don't post without permission.  
Look out for angst, non-con, yaoi

\-- quicksylver --  
written 050503 

 

"H...H...Heero."

He closed his eyes waited for the first blow to fall. It didn't come. One eye cracked open to see Heero Yuy staring at him. 

"Um... uh.... Heero? I can explain."

He smiled weakly, moving to disentangle himself from Heero's grip. This proved a catalyst as the wing pilot sprung into action, rolling them both until Heero lay directly above him, pinning his arms above his head. 

He trembled as blue eyes seemed to pierce him down to his very soul. He could not tear his gaze away. He lay there breathing heavily from the contact of hero's skin and the feel of his weight above him. 

To his eternal shame he found him self growing hard and tried to turn his head away as his faced burned. Heero looked down at where their crotches were pressed together and pressed down slightly with his hips. This caused the one beneath him to let out a low groan in spite of his shame and fear. 

These groans grew in volume as Heero started rotating his hips, pressing his own erection against his captive's. Desperate eyes jerked to look at him, pleading.

"Heero" he breathed as his blood was heated to a boil. 

"Winner" the wing pilot said, suddenly pulling away to kneel between the other's legs.

Heero looked down at the blonde who lay panting before him, legs spread open wantonly. He slowly placed two fingers on the other's lips, silencing the other. He then traced his fingertips gently down the neck and chest, ghosting across the left nipple and causing the blonde to arch off the bed with a gasp. 

The fingertips continued down the chest only to stop at the belt of the other's boxers. The blonde thrust his hip upward, looking up with pleading eyes. 

"Heero... please" came the hoarse and desperate whimper. 

Suddenly he found himself stripped of his boxer, his erection full and free from its confinement. Calloused hands caressed his thighs roughly, leaving faint handprints on the creamy flesh. The blonde looked down and gasped at the size of Heero's erection bobbing between his legs, hard and dark with blood. 

It wasn't much longer than his own but it was thick. He reached down to grasp it only to have his hands pinned above him once again. 

Blue eyes warned him not to move and he obeyed. Heero grabbed his ankles and lifted them to rest on his shoulder, positioning himself at the blonde's entrance. Hands grasped at the blonde's butt cheeks spreading them to reveal that puckered opening. He could feel the head of Heero's cock as it brushed against his opening and was afraid. 

This was not how he imagined his first time would be. No romance, no foreplay, no soft words of love or even lubrication to make it less painful. 

He looked up into Heero's eyes and saw only lust. It was not supposed to be like this.   
Pain exploded into his world as Heero's pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle.

The blonde cried out, trying to twist away from the hurt. One strong hand held him down as the other clamped over his mouth to stifle the cries. 

He felt as if he was being torn apart by some huge monstrosity. His hands grasped at Heero's trying to dislodge them, scraping the skin and at the bandages. He wanted the pain to stop. 

Please let the pain stop. 

He could feel the wall of his insides cling to Heero's cock as the wing pilot pushed steadily into his heat. Soon Heero was fully sheathed within the blonde, who was sobbing freely now, hoping that this could end. It wasn't supposed to be like this. 

Please make it stop. 

With a firm hand holding the other down, Heero began to thrust in and out. The blonde screamed into the hand over his mouth as Heero's cock tore at his insides. It hurt so much. 

Truly desperate, he began flailing his limbs, beating against Heero's arms and torso with his hands and feet. Shrugging of most of the blows, the wing soldier delivered a stinging slap that echoed in through the darkened room.

Shocked, the blonde brought one hand up to his burning cheek. Heero hit him. He turned his reddening cheek into the cool pillow, the pain from the slap almost rivaling the pain of Heero tearing into him. 

He tried to scream but nothing came from his throat. It was like something had broken inside of him. He stopped flailing and lay there as Heero rocked him, the wing pilot's grunts the only sound heard. 

What's happening to me? The blonde wondered. It was as if he detached from the pain and a heavy silence had descended around him. He stared out of the curtain less window at the blinking letters of the hotel sign. 

Time seemed to slow down as the sounds around him became muffled and warped. The blinking of the lights slowed and grew closer until it seemed as if he could actually see the tiny sparks of electricity that charged through the wired as they came on and the cooling wires when they flickered off. 

It was the deepest he had ever gone in his introversion and it terrified him. 

Yet strangely, he didn't want to stop. To stop would carry him back to the pain. 

He didn't want to go back there, ever.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 3 of the Blood, Sweat and Tears trilogy

I don't own gundam Wing. Don't post without permission  
look out for angst, non-con, depressed quatre.

quicksylver  
written 050503  
edited 070803

 

After what seemed like an eternity in that secret place, he was brought back to the here and now. Pain exploded across him mind and body as he began to struggle only to realize that he was alone. He bit back a cry as he tried to raise himself off the bed. 

Bright light shone through the windows, illuminating the room and he realized that it was day. How long was I out? He wondered groggily, where's...? He sobbed at the name, the pain of such betrayal hurting him deeper than any physical pain ever could.

He shivered violently and looked down at his own body. The paleness of his skin was covered in darkening bruises, most in the shape of handprints. Choking back sobs, he slowly opened his legs and cried out at the amount of blood mixed with semen he saw drying against his thighs and the thin sheet.

He fell back against the filthy mattress weeping openly now. He curled his body into a fetal position, ignoring the protests his back and lower torso made. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing that he could just wake up and it would all be a dream. 

But it wasn't. The nightmare was all to real and it ravaged through his soul like a savage beast. 

For God knows how long he lay there shivering from a cold that came from inside him and not from the cheap room. Soon enough, the need to feel clean of this shame, this soiling, drove him to action. 

Slowly, and with great pain he managed to get himself to the shower, letting the chilly water wash away the dirt and filth encrusted on his body. Why did he do this to me? How could he? What did I do to deserve this? Oh God. With eyes unseeing, he began to scrub along his tender skin; gently washing the flakes of dry bodily fluid caked along his legs and pelvis. 

With methodical hands he checked himself for any broken bones, and did a mental check on his injuries. Heh heh, he chuckled to himself, trying to stamp down on any hysterical tendencies, looks like he really did a number on you eh? As the shock began to wear off, he dropped to his knees with a strangled cry, shudders racking his thin and bruised frame.

He would never be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

 

 

I meant to write a one shot bridging BST and Pandora's Clock but this is taking on a life of it's own. until I can think of a name it will be know as Interlude.


	5. Chapter 5

This is Part 1 of what was meant to be a one shot to bridge Blood Sweat and Tears and Pandora's Clock but it has taken on a mind of it's own. this is in progress and is always changing in subtle ways so i can't give you definate warnings  
look out for lots of angst, violence, yaoi, depressed quatre.

I do not own Gundam Wing. Do not post without permission

quicksylver  
written 07 08 2003

 

Relena Darlian Peacecraft looked out of her window, deep in thought. The events of the past few days replayed in her mind like old projector movies, grainy and with poor sound. She sighed and turned away from the view, walking around the large desk that had been her father's. 

She sat in the large chair behind it and leaned back with another sigh, burrowing deeper into the plush chair she had often fallen asleep on as a child in her father's house. With a slight pout and her steepled index fingers pressed to her lips, she replayed the memories yet again.

Flashback -- three days ago.

A large pink limousine made it's way through the midtown traffic with surprising ease, Paegan's face beset with a expression of pride and contentment as he made use of all the shortcuts and fast moves he used to get them around the almost stopped up bottlenecks that occurred at almost every major intersection.

Relena smiled at him from the back seat. She was glad to have something to smile at. She had just visited her mother and she was exhausted and a little depressed. It seemed that after her husband's death Mrs. Darlian and sought many ways to cope with the loss, the latest of these being her joining the Church of the New Eden which encouraged going back to the garden of Eden where you only ate raw food and slept under the stars like adam and eve once did.

Relena had arrived to see nearly everything in the house covered in sheets and her mother meditating in the garden wearing nothing more than a thin white toga. The cooks and maids had been fired; leaving only the gardener, butler and a fellow member of the church whom served as a raw food chef. It had taken her almost a half-hour to convince her mother not to sell all of their properties and holdings and move into the forest.

She finally convinced her mother to leave the estate in her hands, all the while being stared at malevolently by the raw food chef and being coaxed into eating fruit tacos and vegetable purees by her mother. 

She finally left, promising to return the next day with their attorney, but not before comforting the distressed aging butler and ordering him to keep in contact with all the servants who had been let go so suddenly. The look of relief on his normally solemn face had been priceless.

The blonde girl chuckled into her hand at the memory, glancing out of the window. Startled, she did a double take and called out to her driver.

"Stop the car!" she ordered.

Paegan's brow wrinkled in confusion but he obeyed, pulling to limo to the side of the road. Curious, he turned to her only to find that Relena had already sprung from the car and was making her way through the busy street. 

He quickly followed her path, trying to keep her blonde hair in sight as the dodged around the many pedestrians crowding the pavement.

Meanwhile, Relena was a woman with a mission. She had briefly glimpsed a face and a head of golden hair and knew in her gut that it had to be Quatre, the gundam pilot; it just had to be. As she pushed her way towards his retreating figure she felt the small hope that she always held at the back of her mind swell up to press against her chest.

Heero, it breathed.

She knew that if she could talk to Quatre, he would know where Heero was. He had to tell her. She had to know. She had to see him again. There was nothing else in this crazy world that held her captive like the pilot of the white gundam.

With renewed vigour she shouldered her way the blonde pilot, putting hr hand on his shoulder and smiling as she spun him around to face her. The smile quickly melted into an expression of shock.  
The boy she had met on several occasions in the past was gone. All that was left was a pale ghost looking back at her with haunted eyes. For a few moments she could not get any sound to come from her mouth. Quatre looked almost dead with his pale skin and dark circles under eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

"Quatre?" she whispered, afraid to even speak loud at this 'apparition'.

His eyes focused for a few moments and he seemed to recognize her.

"it's me Relena" she coaxed, exchanging looks with Paegan who had finally caught up with her.  
The look on the old man's face was almost enough to make her start to cry. Instead she stuffed that urge down and gently began to guide the blonde boy back to the limousine.

"It's going to be alright now Quatre" she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing.

Quatre stopped, startling her as he turned to face her His blue eyes unseeing as he mumbled words she had to strain to hear, words that sent a chill down her spine.

" Nothing will ever be the same again"

 

 

this is in progress. ciao for now


End file.
